


Tsunaide

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Kid Fic, Motivational Iwa-senpai, Multi, Mutual musculature admiration, awkward babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime makes an impact wherever he goes. Here are some of those times.





	1. Iwaizumi Hajime/Hanamaki Takahiro

**Author's Note:**

> This was a part of my celebration of one of my favorite fellow Geminis on Tumblr. I took requests for Iwa ships and wrote these in response. There was one other that launched into another orbit and turned into a one shot. That one is Tangled Webs (UshiIwa).

“No —” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and readjusted the straps of his backpack, allowing a fresh gust of air against his sweat streaked back. “— we are not arm-wrestling halfway up a mountain just because you don't want anyone to see you lose — again.”

He looked over at Hanamaki, whose devilish grin was heralded by a loud chorus of cicadas, and Iwaizumi groaned because this was an argument he would probably lose. With a groan, he slipped off his pack and grumbled, “Fine, but this is the last time I give you a rematch.”

They headed over to a nearby rock outcropping, propping up their elbows on the table-like top of it and linked hands. On the count of three, the contest of strength of will began. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at the sheer amount of force being channeled into Hanamaki’s grip.

Through more effort he had to put into an arm-wrestling match in ages, Iwaizumi was slowly but surely gaining the advantage, but the tides turned quickly when he made the mistake of looking up at Hanamaki. 

A soft, pink tongue slowly dragged across Hanamaki’s lower lip, and the air punched out of Iwaizumi’s chest -- a fact he didn't realize until he felt his knuckles slap down onto the rock in defeat.

Grinning, Hanamaki leaned toward Iwaizumi until they were almost face to face and purred, “Made ya look.” He pecked a kiss onto Iwaizumi’s mouth and nonchalantly resumed their hike. With a jaunty wave over the shoulder, Hanamaki called, “Last one to the top digs the potty hole.”

Iwaizumi couldn't stop smiling as he followed suit. He had no idea how he ended up dating one of his biggest rivals, but one thing was certain: things were never boring.


	2. Iwaizumi Hajime & Gojira

Hajime swallowed hard as he looked around the vast and jam-packed mall, lost amidst a jungle of legs. He knew his mama was somewhere, but no matter where he looked or how many times he called, Hajime couldn’t seem to find her.

Resigned to the fact that he would be stranded in this place forever, Hajime’s lip started to wobble. He ducked beside a rack of bubble gum vending machines, and tucking his knees against his chest, his little shoulders began to shake with tears.

He was only vaguely aware of someone sitting down on the bench near him, but Hajime jumped when that person spoke to him. “Are you lost, little guy?”

Hajime’s eyes widened as his gaze roved over this stranger from head to toe, jaw dropping as he reached the crown of that spiky, scaled head. All his life, Hajime had wished he could see a real dinosaur, but on that day of all days, he was just lucky enough for that wish to come true. “Kyouryuu-san,” he murmured aloud.

His new dinosaur companion laughed and shook his head as far as the mask of his foam suit would allow. “You can call me Gojira.”

“Gojira.” Hajime gave him a gap-toothed smile. “Gojira-san, can you help me find my mama?”

Gojira patted him on the head and said, “Of course.” Hajime’s new friend then asked for his mother’s name, which Hajime eagerly gave, and took his hand to lead him into the forest of people taller than him until they reached a massive wooden kiosk. Gojira exchanged some words Hajime couldn’t make out with a man dressed in blue behind the counter, and soon a monotone voice overrode the ambient music on the overhead speakers.

Reaching into a basket provided by the man in blue, Gojira handed Hajime a bright green lollipop. Their hands never losing their grip on one another, Gojira led Hajime to a nearby bench until his mother came rushing over five minutes later with tears in her eyes. “Hajime, baby, I can’t believe I lost you. I just turned around and you were —” Mama sniffled and gave Gojira a watery smile. “Thank you for taking care of him, and good luck with your movie premier.” 

“Anytime.” Gojira shook Hajime’s hand. “You were a brave little boy, Hajime-kun.”

“Thank you, Gojira-san!” Hajime called as his new best friend disappeared once more into the mass of summer shoppers. He looked up at Mama, lollipop stick poking out of the corner of his mouth, and asked, “Whaddya mean movie?”

Mama grinned. “Didn’t you know? Gojira-san is a movie star. When you’re a little older, we’ll go see one, okay?”

Hajime pouted but relented. He thought turning four that day was plenty old enough, but Mama would keep her promise. That feeling was reaffirmed when she plunked a party hat atop his head and squeezed his hand. “Happy birthday, baby. You want some ice cream?”

“Yeah!” His earlier fear all but forgotten as he skipped along at his mother’s side, Hajime knew he would never forget about Gojira-san, the best dinosaur he ever met.


	3. Iwaizumi Hajime/Matsukawa Issei

“How the hell is it this hot in June?” Issei grumbles, sprawling out in the slightly cooler grass in the shade of a nearby tree. “This is going to be one miserable week.”

Hajime plunks down beside him and mimics Issei’s sweaty starfish pose. “I was kind of hoping it would be cooler so we could go biking, but screw that.” He props himself up on his elbows. “Wanna go to the beach?”

Issei lets his mind wander to the thought of cool Pacific waters lapping at his ankles and wet sand squishing between his toes, while Hajime barrels into the oncoming waves in swimming trunks. A grin creeps up at the corners of his mouth. “Hell yeah, I do.”

A couple of hours later, they are slogging along the width of the beach to get a better position near the water. Issei has no plans on swimming; his desire to be close to the shoreline is sheerly for aesthetic reasons. His aesthetic, of course, is the heady combination of Hajime’s expression of pure joy as he dives into the water, along with his boyfriend’s tight, muscled torso being littered with a smattering of love bites Issei had left the night before. He can’t think of another way to deliver the ‘look but don’t touch’ message to as many people at once as possible.

That thought makes Issei smirk as Hajime whips off his shirt and, with a peck on Issei’s cheek, stampedes into the water.

They stay until the sun goes down, but before they head back for the bus stop, Issei snares Hajime’s hand in his. “Hey, we’re finally alone. Want to walk for a bit?” Hajime gives him a crooked smile that looks positively angelic while haloed by the last shred of sunshine peeking over the horizon. 

Hand in hand, they stroll along the coast until the only light is the mostly-full moon on the water and the faraway glow of street lamps.

“This was a good idea,” Hajime says, leaning into Issei’s shoulder. “With you working and me going to school, we barely ever get to see each other. Thanks for taking a weekend off to hang out with me.” He glances out over the water, a slight blush hinted on his cheeks by the moonlight. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah.” His breath catches in his chest, and Issei can’t help but pull Hajime tight to his chest. To hell with the humidity; he’ll live. “C’mere.” He craned his neck down to snare a kiss that is eagerly returned. It’s been a while since they’ve had time together, but as far as date nights go, Issei can’t think of a better way for it to end.


	4. Iwaizumi Hajime & Yahaba Shigeru

Yahaba runs and runs and runs until his guts threaten to fly out of his throat, and then he runs some more. After all, it’s the only thing left to do when their volleyball season is over and he won’t be touching another competitive court for the rest of high school. 

The bitter taste of defeat lingers in his mouth, and every mistake he had made during his last match parades around in his head like a marching band. Yet no matter how much he sweats, he can’t shed that feeling so he can go home and sleep away this disgusting sensation of inadequacy.

“Hey, slow down, will ya?” comes a familiar voice over his shoulder. 

Yahaba stumbles amid what has to be his hundredth lap around the block and reels around on his heel, and his jaw drops. “Iwaizumi-san?”

Iwaizumi jogs to a halt next to Yahaba and pauses to catch his breath. “You’re hard to catch. You’re faster than you used to be.”

WIth a heavy sigh, Yahaba looks away and murmurs, “Did you need something, Iwaizumi-san?”

A warm hand grips Yahaba’s already sweaty shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I was wondering if  _ you  _ might need something right now.”

Biting back the bile boiling in his belly, Yahaba laughs bitterly. “Yeah, a talent transplant.”

He certainly doesn’t expect a kick in the shin, but Yahaba finds himself on the receiving end of one nonetheless. “Knock that shit off.” Iwaizumi grabs both of Yahaba’s biceps and gives his entire body a thorough shake. “I’ve  _ never _ seen you play like that. You were out of your mind. I had to listen to Oikawa blabbing through the entire match about how he taught you everything you know, but the game you played was something you can’t teach, dude.”

“But we lost!” Yahaba wrenches away, tears blurring his vision as he seeks refuge from any and all stupid ideas that losing his last high school volleyball match is anything but a failure. “Losers don’t get pats on the back, Iwaizumi-san. This isn’t tee ball.”

Iwaizumi is silent next to him, but Yahaba never expects the wheezing laugher that spills out of his old upperclassman. “Dude, I said almost the exact same thing last year when Karasuno handed our asses to us.”

Yahaba blinked back his surprise. “Really?”

An arm draped around Yahaba’s shoulders. “Really. And right after I stopped feeling sorry for myself and blaming myself for us losing, I realized that I played better than I’ve ever played in my life and I still lost. There’s no shame in that.”

“It’s easy to say that now,” Yahaba pouts, crossing his arms. 

“It is,” Iwaizumi agrees. “But you’ll get there, man. I believe in you. Always have.”

With one final back-slapping hug, Iwaizumi turns back toward the Sendai city gym. Before he’s out of earshot, he calls, “Don’t sulk too long. You’re the captain. Those guys need you.”

Yahaba can’t formulate a response to that before Iwaizumi disappears into the crowd around the gym, but he doubts one is expected. After all, it’s hard to argue with someone who told him everything he didn’t want to hear because it’s the truth. And it’s that truth that propels him back to the building where his teammates are no doubt lingering in the locker room rather than heading back to the court to watch other teams go on without them. 

Iwaizumi’s words slowly force back the noisy din of self-pity, and when he re-enters their assigned locker room, he’s greeted with a sea of tight smiles and tear-streaked faces. For the first time in his entire captaincy, though, Yahaba finally knows what to say, and he does.


	5. Iwaizumi Hajime/Kindaichi Yuutarou

Yuutarou abused his bottom lip with his teeth and his fingernails dug into his palms as he watched Hajime unwrap his present with bated breath. Slowly, almost agonizingly so, the layers of paper were torn away until the box inside was all that stood between his boyfriend and the months’ worth of painfully considered shopping ventured.

He had bought a dozen or so things, only to return them the next day because after he thought about it, nothing seemed quite right. After all, how did one encapsulate the feeling of ‘I’ve been with you for ten years and I’m so glad we’re together’ in a single object?

If his old teenage self had seen grown-up Yuutarou dithering over something like an anniversary gift, he would’ve kicked his own ass.

But as Hajime’s enviably steady fingers eased the lid off the box, Yuutarou yearned to wrench the box from his grasp and try again. The idea had been suggested by an attendant in the craft shop in the next town over, and the gesture had seemed like the perfect idea at the time. After it had come back from the printers, it looked even better than he thought it would.

It wasn’t until this moment that he wanted to go back and change his mind. Hajime would think it was sappy and gross. 

His last chance to turn back was snatched away as the lid on the box dropped to the floor, and Hajime pulled the small, glossy covered book from its nest of tissue paper. “This is . . . not a sweater.”

Yuutarou’s insides wilted at those words. He was already committed to the book, so he at least hoped Hajime liked it. The air of unenthused surprise did nothing to slake his nerves.

He forced himself to watch as Hajime slowly flipped through the pages of the book, emblazoned with pictures and collages of their time together over the past decade. Every friend of theirs had contributed to the pool of photos. Especially Kunimi, who always appreciated being on the business end of a camera.

Hajime was silent from cover to cover, not making so much as a peep at the end of the book, which was printed with a handful of coupons for a hug or a kiss or a date night at the spur of the moment. Yuutarou’s stomach twisted painfully until he saw the first sign of reaction since the box had been opened.

When something wet dribbled down onto the back cover, he realized Hajime was crying.

Letting out a snotty sniffle, Hajime raked his forearm across his cheek and turned to Yuutarou with a wide, wet smile. “I can’t believe you put so much thought into this.” He gave a wry chuckle. “I mean, seriously. I got you a bike.”

“I love the bike!” Yuutarou proclaimed. “You knew I needed one and wanted one but didn’t want to spend the money. It was an amazing gift.”

Hajime gave him a lopsided grin and nodded toward the bedroom. “I know I have coupons and all, but I was wondering if I could bum a few freebies and spend the rest of the night letting you know how sexy it is when you’re all gooey and stuff.” He looped his arms around Yuutarou’s waist and nuzzled the hollow of his shoulder. “Then I wanna spoon and read this over and over. Maybe cry some more.” He got up on his tiptoes and hissed against Yuutarou’s ear. “Maybe come back for some seconds.”

Yuutarou shivered in anticipation, and with an absurd smile on his face, he walked hand in hand with Hajime as they went to put an exclamation point on the end of a really good day together.


	6. Iwaizumi Hajime & Kyoutani Kentarou

Iwaizumi looks around the quad for any last well-wishers from his classmates or his teammates, and when no one is to be found, he harrumphs.  _ I thought he’d be here _ , he thought, taking one last sweeping glance at the school grounds before he left them for the last time as a student of Aobajousai High School.

Sighing, he heads for the gates, peeking over his shoulder periodically to make sure he doesn’t miss anyone. After all, he spent the best three years of his life in this place, with these people, and he wants to remember them forever. The absence of one kouhai in particular, however, is more disconcerting than he figures it has the right to do.

He nearly trips when he hears the quiet rasp of his name in a familiar voice. “Iwaizumi-san.”

Wheeling around, Iwaizumi grins when he spies Kyoutani leaning up against the stone pillar at the gates, uniform askew and arms crossed defensively. “Hey, Kyoutani. I was hoping to run into you.”

Kyoutani snorts. “Yeah, that’ll be a first.” He pushes off the wall and moves in front of Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s brows shoot up to his hairline when Kyoutani drops into a deep bow. Once he straightens, Kyoutani offers a handshake. “Thank you, Iwaizumi-senpai. My life would be a lot different if not for you.”

Blinking back his surprise, Iwaizumi stammers, “I, uh, yeah. You’re welcome.” He finally remembers Kyoutani’s extended hand and shakes it,face reddening. “It really means a lot for you to say that.”

They stand there hands linked for a long, tense minute before Iwaizumi jerks Kyoutani toward him for a back-slapping hug. Kyoutani is tense in his embrace for a few seconds before he eases into it. Iwaizumi might even go so far as to say he actually returns it.

“Take care of them for me,” Iwaizumi rasps, voice thick as the thought of maybe never seeing his kouhai again descends on him. He holds Kyoutani just a little tighter. “They’re counting on you.”

Kyoutani grunts. “Yeah, I know.”

Iwaizumi reluctantly drops his arms and steps back, taking a deep breath and swallowing around the knot of emotion in his throat. “You have my number. Call me if you need anything.”

“Yep.” A hint of a smile threatens on Kyoutani’s lips

“I mean it!” Iwaizumi can’t fight off a grin of his own. “Anytime.”

Kyoutani turns and gives a lazy wave over his shoulder while he walks away. “You got it.”

Long after Kyoutani is gone, Iwaizumi stands and stares at his retreating form, his smile lingering. Seijou volleyball has been everything to him for the past three years, and the guys on the team his best friends. The thought of leaving them to their own devices has gnawed at him, but Kyoutani’s strong, confident silhouette reminds him that they’re all in very good hands.


	7. Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou & Kunimi Akira & Kageyama Tobio

Hajime’s fingers lightly touch the glass as if the scene behind it will disappear at the slightest disturbance. They’re here, they’re really  _ here _ . After three years of interviews and paperwork and red tape, they’re finally here to bring home the family they’ve wanted to raise together since they were kids running around in the dirt and pledging the world to one another.

Tooru squeezes their linked hands, and they lean into each other as they watch the three brothers so close in age play with a pile of toy cars. “They’re a lot cuter in person.” Tooru’s nose scrunches. “Tobio-chan looks like he’s going to smash his car like Godzilla, though.”

Elbowing his husband, Hajime rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare say anything. He’s fine just the way he is.” His face softens. “After all, if you spent as long as you can remember here because your folks just . . . didn’t want you, I doubt you’d smile much, either.” He reaches out as if to pat little Tobio’s shoulder. “The other two look happy enough.”

“Akira-chan and Yuu-chan do well with the other kids, their teacher says.” Tooru chuckles. “Apparently, they share their lunches with each other. Yuu-chan eats both sandwiches, and Akira-chan eats the rest.”

Hajime nods, but his attention is fixed on Tobio, who never looks up as he arranges his cars on the racetrack-print carpet. His brows raise in surprise when he sees the way they’re ordered: perfect chromatic order. “I see.”

Years of being a school teacher have given Hajime insight into kids despite not being a parent until this very day. He’s done loads of research into childhood development and any issues or disorders that might prevent a child from growing, and one of the ones that gets missed so often is staring him in the face. His heart lurches at the idea of the rough life Tobio would have ahead of him without patience and understanding — something he probably wouldn’t have gotten in a crowded orphanage with limited resources.

“Let’s go get our boys, Tooru.” Hajime links elbows with Tooru, and they finally open the door to the little playroom with wide smiles on their faces. 

When the door opens, Akira and Yuutarou both look up wide-eyed and stare at the two of them. Hajime assumes they know they’re going home today, and their little brains are wrapping around the knowledge that Hajime and Tooru are their new parents.

Kneeling in front of them, Hajime holds out a hand to Yuutarou, and Tooru does the same to Akira. “Hey, guys. My name is Hajime, and this is Tooru.” He shakes Yuutarou’s small hand and grins. “We’d love it if you three came to live with us forever.” 

Yuutarou gives him a gap-toothed grin and shakes back. “Cool! Do you like cars?”

“Sure do.” He reaches up and ruffles Yuutarou’s hair. “I know what kind of coloring books you’re gonna want. Once we get settled in at home, we’ll do some shopping and you can pick out stuff for your room.”

Glancing to the side, Hajime sees Tooru high-fiving Akira, and his stomach settles a little. Two-thirds of their new family members are on board. That just leaves on. “If you boys will excuse me, I have one more son I’d love to meet.”

Akira groans. “Don’t mind Tobio. He’s just weird.” Yuutarou nods solemnly.

“Nah.” Hajime shakes his head. “He’s not weird, just a little different. But we’re going to help him, right?”

“Hajime?” Tooru sends him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Hajime pushes to his feet and gives Tooru a smile. “You’ll see.”

Over in the corner where Tobio plays alone, Hajime sits just past the border of the rug. “Tobio, can I play with you, too?”

“Fine.” The response is gruff, but not a negative one. 

His relief mounts when Tobio hands him a single car, even if it is the odd one out that doesn’t fit anywhere in his color-coordinated and symmetrical pack. “Thank you.” Hajime rolls the car along an open patch of road, making cartoonish car sounds until it screeches to a halt right next to Tobio’s crossed legs. “It looks like this one is a little different. That’s okay, though. I’m happy to have him.”

Tobio is quiet, but Hajime can almost hear him thinking. “Tobio, do you know you’re getting a forever home today?” The child nods but doesn’t look up, and Hajime doesn’t expect him to. “My name is Hajime, and me and my husband are happy to take you home. Would you like that?”

“No one ever wants me,” Tobio grumbles, and something bitter itches in Hajime’s throat. He would happily brain anyone who would make a nice kid like this feel unwanted. 

“I do.” Hajime moves to sit opposite of Tobio. He moves the single car to the front of Tobio’s pack, right in the middle of the road. “I think he fits right here. Don’t you think so?”

He watches Tobio eyeball the arrangement, the car not abreast with another on the road but still in an even formation. After a solid minute of silence, Tobio finally lifts his head. Not quite making eye contact, but he’s definitely watching Hajime. “Sure.”

Hajime smiles widely and holds out a hand. “Tobio-chan, can I hold your hand?”

Tobio looks up but not directly at Hajime. His hand darts out, and Hajime takes it.

The moment little fingers curl around his, Hajime’s heart stutters and his eyes itch with tears. He swallows hard and rasps, “We’re gonna be a good team, Tobio. You, me, Papa Tooru, and your brothers. You’ll always have us, okay?”

Finally, Tobio peeks at him through his too-long bangs and fixes his large blue eyes on a spot over Hajime’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hajime pats Tobio’s shoulder and beams. “I’m glad you feel that way. Do you want to go home and see your new room?”

Tobio looks at his feet and nods, and he walks hand in hand with Hajime over to Tooru and the other two boys.

“Is Tobio-chan ready to go?”

“We’re ready, yeah.” Hajime doesn’t bother fighting a smile when the other two latch onto Tooru, and their brand new family herds out to the car for the first day of their new forever.

When they get to the car, however, Tobio doesn’t want to let go. Hajime gives Tooru a look, and his husband plucks the keys out of the back pocket of his jeans and says, “I’ll drive.”

Nestled in the back seat with one boy curled on his lap, one happily chattering about everything under the sun, and the third fiddling with a fidget spinner Tooru had thought he’d lost ages ago, Hajime is filled to the brim with warmth and all the new love he has to give to these three little angels.


	8. Iwaizumi Hajime & Kageyama Tobio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Inspired by this post: http://moonsterm.tumblr.com/post/138540834362

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise when he walked into the locker room. The entire Kitagawa Daiichi volleyball club was present, along with colorful decorations strung all over. “What the hell?”

OIkawa beamed at him and held up a huge cake. “Happy birthday, Iwa-chan.”

Face reddening, Iwaizumi ducked his head and chuckled. “You guys didn’t have to do all this for me. I appreciate it, though.” He peeked at the cake from the corner of his eye. “Is that matcha.”

“I’m hurt,” Oikawa whined. “You even have to ask?”

The team gathered around a few of the benches shoved together into a makeshift table and set into the cake. Each one of Iwaizumi’s teammates went rounds sharing stories about him, making him redder and redder with each anecdote.

In fact, every teammate but one took a turn embarrassing Iwaizumi. He saw one first year at the corner, head down while he fingered traces of frosting from his party plate. It made Iwaizumi smile. Kageyama never did talk much without a ball in his hands.

Practice that evening came and went, and most of his teammates bid him a happy birthday and even handed over a few little gifts. By the time the locker room was empty, he had an armload of presents and an enormous smile on his face. He had to fish an old box out of the storage closet just to carry it all.

With Oikawa staying behind to grind out a few more practice serves that he swore he was almost done with (they both knew that wasn’t true), Iwaizumi headed out of the locker room, eager to get home and open the presents so he could tell each of them how much he loved them. He was just past the gate when he noticed a familiar blue t-shirt hanging out by one of the pillars. 

“Hey, Kageyama!” he called, cocking his head to summon his quiet kouhai. Kageyama approached Iwaizumi, hands behind his back and chin almost on his chest. “You were quiet today. Something on your mind?”

Shaking his head, Kageyama gave the box a quick glance and hid his face behind a curtain of bangs once again. “You got a lot of presents.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Probably too many. I wonder how many of them wasted their lunch money on something they don’t even get to keep.” He smiled at the thought. “It’s nice, though. Not just getting stuff, but giving it, too. Let’s people know how you see them, I think.”

Kageyama nodded. “Yeah.” 

They walked side by side for a few blocks, and they were well past the point where Kageyama should have turned off in another direction to go home before Iwaizumi stopped and set the box at his feet. “Hey, are you all right?”

Finally, Kageyama looked up at him, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “I wanted to give this to you earlier, but I didn’t think you’d like it. But I still want to give it to you.” With that, he carefully handed a box to Iwaizumi and bounced on the balls of his feet, hands thrusting deep into his pockets as he fidgeted nervously.

“That’s really nice, Kageyama.” Iwaizumi chortled. “To be honest, I figured you didn’t even remember my name. You forget most everybody else’s name still.”

Kageyama’s eyes grew large and round before he looked away again. Iwaizumi looked over the gift box carefully. The tag on it was barely legible, his surname was spelled out in hiragana rather than kanji, and if he didn’t already know Kageyama’s name he wouldn’t have been able to figure it out by reading the From portion of it. 

Curious more than anything, Iwaizumi nudged the lid up on the box and hummed at the contents of it. “It’s a cactus.”

With great care and a few close calls, he coaxed the spiny plant from the box and held it up. The sight of his name painted onto the pot in neat and pristine kanji made him smile. “So, who did the writing?”

“My mom.” Kageyama gulped. “Do you . . . like it?”

Iwaizumi eyeballed the plant closely. By his own words, gifts said more about the giver than the giftee; he was just trying to figure out what this simple token told him about Kageyama. However, he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“I saw it at the store and it reminded me of you.” 

Iwaizumi’s brow knit in puzzlement. “How so?”

Kageyama’s face reddened as he looked at his shoes. “Its hair sticks out all over, just like yours, and you’re full of spikes, too.”

The words soaked in, and by the time the last of it absorbed into Iwaizumi’s brain, a bright peal of laughter spilled out of him. “Yeah, I suppose it does.” He looked back and the cactus, and a contented smile lingered. It wasn’t what he was expecting, but he thought he might actually prefer it that way. People who thought the same things were boring; why else would he subject himself to a decade of friendship with the most frustrating person he knew? “I like it. Thanks.”

Coloring even more, Kageyama tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “I should let you go home. Your family probably wants to do stuff for you, too.”

Iwaizumi’s good mood deflated a little at that comment. Not the fact that it wasn’t true and the only thing waiting for Iwaizumi at home was schoolwork and a sinkful of dishes, but that Kageyama felt like his presence was a waste of Iwaizumi’s time.

That was going to stop right then and there.

“Hey, uh, I could use some help carrying this stuff, if you don’t mind.” He held up the cactus and then looked pointedly at the box on the ground between them. “I don’t want Spike to get hurt, but I need to take these home, to. Mind helping me out?”

Kageyama’s back straightened at the words and he gave a curt bow. “Of course, Iwaizumi-senpai.” He picked up the box, and they walked side by side to Iwaizumi’s apartment. He led Kageyama inside to an empty room. His mother was at work and his brother at the babysitter’s. He didn’t even bother announcing his presence. 

“Over here is fine.” Iwaizumi gestured toward the kotatsu and followed Kageyama over. “Thanks. I appreciate the help.” He set down Spike and gave Kageyama a solemn look. “But there’s one more thing I need your help with, and it’s really important.”

Kageyama’s eyes widened almost to the size of saucers and he nodded, his gaze never tearing away from Iwaizumi. “I can help.”

“Good. Wait here.” Iwaizumi headed into the kitchen and snatched a couple of spoons from the utensil drawer, then plucked something from the freezer that he’d bought himself the day before to keep him company on what would be the loneliest birthday he’d ever had. He chortled at the irony. 

When he returned to the kotatsu, he held up two spoons and a liter of matcha ice cream. “If someone doesn’t stop me, I can and  _ will _ eat this all by myself. Have you ever eaten a whole carton of ice cream before?” Kageyama shook his head and Iwaizumi didn’t have to fake a shudder as he remembered his fate the one and only time he had dared. “You don’t wanna know.”

Iwaizumi sat by Kageyama and handed him a spoon. “You’re a good kid, helping me out like this. I’m totally abusing my senpai power by dragging you this far, but I appreciate any assistance you may be able to give me.”

Kageyama sobered and bobbed his head in the affirmative. “You can count on me, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

“Always knew I could.” 

With that, Iwaizumi flicked on the television and settled on the first channel he found, and the two of them found the bottom of the carton together. Even as Kageyama bid him goodnight in order to make it home before sunset, the simple companionship his awkward kouhai brought lingered after he left.

After finishing the dishes he had ignored and saying screw it about his homework, Iwaizumi headed to bed and fell asleep with his eyes glued to that little cactus.


	9. Iwaizumi Hajime & Bokuto Koutarou

Iwaizumi relished the burn in his muscles as he finished his last few reps with what were arguably the best ergonomically designed dumbbells he had ever touched. When Oikawa had told him he could use the national team gym while he was in Tokyo for a visit, he hadn’t thought much about it. However, once he had set eyes on all of the equipment, he understood why Oikawa had brought it up.

Once he guzzled some of the cleaner water he had ever tasted from the dispenser along the gym wall, he looked around for his next destination. His gaze fell longingly on the bench presses, which sported the same sleek design as the rest of the gym, but he sighed and headed toward the treadmill instead. 

After a couple of kilometers, he started to zone out, eyes fastened to the televisions mounted in the ceiling showing whatever happened to be playing on the sports network. He jolted in surprise when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Avoiding a painful and embarrassing wipeout, Iwaizumi powered down the treadmill and looked at his visitor.

It was a guy around his own age, but with a hairdo that made him look like he’d seen the business end of an electrical socket more than once. Biting back a chuckle, Iwaizumi dismounted the treadmill and said, “What’s up?”

His visitor stuck out his hand and grinned. “Hey, man, I’ve never seen you before. Are you new on the team? Name’s Bokuto Koutarou. Wing spiker.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi shook Bokuto’s hand and shook his head. “I’m just in town visiting a friend on the team, and the coach said it was all right if I used the gym while I’m here. But, yeah, uh, also a wing spiker.” He chuckled. “I just play rec league in college now, though.”

Bokuto shook his head. “If I had to pick between school and volleyball, I’d be the dumbest guy on the planet.”

Iwaizumi laughed of his own accord. “Yeah, I know a few guys like that. Always the most fun to play with.” Bokuto gave him a good-natured slap on the shoulder, and Iwaizumi had to brace himself from stumbling. That was when his attention was drawn to the corded, defined muscles of Bokuto’s biceps. “Holy crap, you are strong. How much can you bench?”

Nose scrunching as he thought about it, Bokuto finally said, “I usually rep about 100 kilos, sometimes 110, but I can do one or two 200s. Coach told me not to do it anymore, though.” Bokuto pouted, even as Iwaizumi’s eyes bulged. “How am I supposed to be better at it if I can’t do more?”

“Jesus, dude.” He squatted to examine Bokuto’s legs, bared by the basketball shorts slung low around his waist. “Your legs are like trees. How much do you squat?”

Bokuto shrugged. “‘Bout 210, I guess. Most of my leg work is the leg press or running. Akaashi made me start doing it in high school, so now I can play longer.” His eyes widened. “Hey, you wanna play? A few of the guys were gonna do some two-on-twos since today is an off day, but one of them had to have dinner with his parents.”

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi blurted, “I’m not nearly good enough to hang with you guys. I’ll just get in the way.”

“No ya won’t?” Bokuto waggled his brows and elbowed Iwaizumi. “If you are who I think you are, you’re the same Iwa-chan Oikawa always talks about. If Oikawa thinks you’re awesome, you probably are.”

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. “Oikawa said that about me?”

Bokuto snorted and cocked his head toward the gleaming court beckoning on the other side of the doors at the back of the gym. “C’mon. I’ll call the guys. They’ll be relieved, and there’s some extra gear in storage.”

His entire skin vibrating in excitement, Iwaizumi said, “I’m in.”

Four sweaty hours later, all of them staggered off the court exhausted but full of good cheer. Iwaizumi had played with every one of the guys who had showed up, but nothing had compared to playing with Bokuto. He wasn’t graceful or particularly sharp in his skills, but the sheer joy he emanated when he played was infectious. 

When they finished showering and languished on the benches in the changing rooms, Bokuto draped himself on the bench and whined, “I am so hungry!”

“What’s good around here?” Iwaizumi asked. “I could use something to eat myself.”

Bokuto sat bolt upright. “I know just the place.”

Two hours after that, they were staggering once again, but from the gross amount of meat they had eaten at Bokuto’s favorite yakiniku place rather than exhaustion. That wasn’t to say that Iwaizumi wasn’t tired  _ and _ stuffed, but it was a good feeling and even better company.

They walked back to the dormitory together, and when Bokuto led him straight to Oikawa’s door, he offered his hand once again. “You’re a cool ass dude, Iwaizumi. If you’re ever in the area again, hit me up anytime.”

“I’d like that a lot.” Iwaizumi keyed Bokuto’s number into his phone and texted him in kind. “It was good meeting you. Make sure you make fun of Oikawa’s hair for me while I’m gone. He thinks it looks artfully tousled, but I really think he just doesn’t own a comb.”

Bokuto laughed until he sagged against the wall. “Yeah, man, I’ll do that. When he murders me, you’re so invited to my funeral.”

“You got it.” He gave Bokuto a salute and slipped into the room.

Eyes still glued to the computer monitor playing game footage in front of him while stuffing noodles in his mouth, Oikawa asked, “Where have you been?”

“Just hanging with the guys.” Iwaizumi dropped onto Oikawa’s bed and mused, “That Bokuto is an interesting guy.”

“Kou-chan?” Oikawa nearly choked. “Iwa-chan has strange taste. He’s so weird.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at Oikawa. “Like you’re one to talk. You’re like a friggin alien. Also, he’s strong as shit and one hell of a player. I’m a little jealous you get to play with people like that every day.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Oikawa pushed away from his desk and toed Iwaizumi’s leg. “I thought you were here to hang out with  _ me _ ?”

Burrowing into the bedding, utterly spent for the day, Iwaizumi murmured, “We are hanging out. At least you are. Your fly’s down.”

“Why were you looking?!” Oikawa squawked even as Iwaizumi heard his zipper being tugged back in place.

A smile lingered on Iwaizumi’s lips at Oikawa’s tirade and meeting Bokuto and his entire day. He made himself an interesting friend, and maybe had some new anaerobic goals. 


End file.
